Category Archives: Food and drink

The Barefoot Brusher

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Filed under Building works, Food and drink, Maintenance

Good news. Our leaky cisterna has been fixed and we now have water again. It’s not the first time we’ve had to live for a period of time without water on tap, and it may not be the last. But I’m not one to worry too much about what might happen in the future (The Boss does enough for both of us).

Before our builder could assess the exact nature of the problem, the level of the water in the concrete storage tank needed to be substantially reduced, so we were playing a waiting game. As the level went down, the pressure reduced, which meant that the flow of the leak began to slow. We wanted to be sure that we could get through the long Easter holiday before we ran out of water, so we became remarkably stingy with the stuff.

When the builder came to do a thorough inspection of the plastic lining of the tank, he discovered two small tears in the food-grade material. Thankfully, the situation could be sorted with a couple of repairs, rather than a whole new lining.

Wet Socks and Kidney Stones

First, The Boss decided to give the inside – of what’s effectively a large concrete box – a good clean, after disconnecting the pump.  He invested the princely sum of a couple of euros on a soft-bristled broom (so as not to cause further damage to the lining) and, having climbed up a ladder to the top of the cisterna, dropped down into the murky depths – clad in a shirt, summer shorts, and some thick socks. (The latter were ostensibly to keep his feet warm while he bailed out the last few inches of water. Nice theory). Anyway, three days later, I went to see how he was getting on. Only joking, of course, although The Boss did say he felt as though he’d been in there for days.

Mallorca’s water is very hard, and limescale – or cal – is the cause of problems ranging from crusty kettles to kidney stones. The Boss managed to accumulate and remove quite a mound of the stuff, hopefully reducing the potential for any such problems at our finca.

It Takes Two

The actual repair was unbelievably quick, when two men came to do it the next day: the one who’d drawn the short straw was inside the claustrophobic tank, doing the repair; the other, seemingly, was to keep The Boss engaged in idle conversation. Job done.

Mallorca is a small island. By coincidence, our builder’s brother is the man who owns the water delivery business we use. Not that it did us any good as far as getting a next-day-delivery was concerned. Jaume was fully booked with deliveries. We went to buy some more 8 litre containers of water from the supermarket . . .

STOP PRESS: In the spring issue of Living Spain magazine – now out – you can read my article about our finca life, on the ‘Last Word’ page.

Jan Edwards Copyright 2013

Sloe Road to Mallorca

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Filed under Food and drink, Garden and gardening

What are you least likely to pack in your carry-on bag when flying to Mallorca for a short break with friends? How about baby blackthorn bushes? Twenty of ’em!

Our friends Duncan and Kristina came over to Mallorca last weekend to remind themselves what sunshine looks like (well, they live in the UK and it’s been a bit thin in the sky of late).  When we picked them up at the airport, they were keen to point out that one of their carry-on bags needed to be transported carefully.  We thought nothing of it until we came home and said bag was opened . . . to reveal what looked like a bunch of twigs in some soil.

Our future source of sloes

Our future source of sloes

Sloe-growing

On closer inspection they still looked like a bunch of twigs in some soil (miraculously the soil hadn’t parted company from the twigs – some of which were sprouting a bit of greenery). We were none the wiser until our friends explained that these were cell-grown blackthorn bushes that would grow into a hedge, and bear sloes.

The Boss had made some sloe gin about a decade ago, when we lived in the UK, and the last of it was shared with these friends during their previous visit. At the time, he’d mentioned that he’d like to make more, but sloes were almost impossible to find here.

On the Case . . . and in the Case

Our friends set about finding a solution. They went to Buckingham Nurseries and Garden Centre (www.hedging.co.uk) where they explained that the plants were destined to be planted in Mallorca. The helpful member of staff provided plenty of advice and information (in the form of various leaflets that were delivered with the plants), and sold them the 20 baby blackthorn bushes that are currently residing in a bucket of water outside, ready for planting in our field over the weekend.

Our friends were slightly nervous about flying to Mallorca with the plants, but the nurseryman said it wouldn’t be a problem and offered to speak to airport staff on the phone if any problem did arise. As it happens, the case carrying the fledgling hedge passed through the airport X-ray machine without question. Maybe baby bushes aren’t such an unusual item to pack in a carry-on bag on a flight to Mallorca?

Jan Edwards©2013

These Devils Don’t Wear Prada

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Filed under Fiestas, Food and drink

Christmas, New Year, and The Three Kings festivities are now over but, here in Mallorca, we don’t let something like January get in the way of enjoying ourselves. This week sees more fiestas on the island and, as the mercury drops in thermometers, we’re pleased they involve bonfires.

Tomorrow is the eve of the feast of Sant Antoni Abat. Funnily enough, he wasn’t a Mallorcan, but an Egyptian Christian monk who lived in the desert. Visited by the Devil, in the guise of a woman, he walked across the burning embers of a fire to take his mind off the immediate and obvious temptation parading in front of him. Well, that would certainly have done the trick.

Pass the Matches

But back to Mallorca: in the 10th and 11th centuries rye crops on the island were blighted by a poisonous fungus, which caused a debilitating itching disease among the population. The Mallorcans, convinced this was the work of the Devil, followed Sant Antoni’s example and lit bonfires to ward away the evil.

And to this day, on the eve of Sant Antoni’s day, bonfires are lit across the island and effigies of the Devil are burned. Locals, dressed scarily as dimonis, dance around; there’s traditional music and, this being a Mallorcan celebration, food and drink. Sausages and other meats are cooked over open fires outdoors, and a glass (or two) of warming hierbas (the local herb liqueur) helps fend off the evening chill.

Down on the Farm

Some years ago our neighbours Lorenzo and Bárbara had their own Sant Antoni celebrations on the farm and, along with other neighbours in the valley, we were invited along to join them. We offered to take some food and drink and it was suggested that we might like to take a dessert and perhaps a bottle of something. I decided to make a tarte tatin which, to my surprise (considering the unreliable nature of our Smeg oven), ended up looking (almost) like something Raymond Blanc would have produced in the kitchens of Le Manoir aux Quat’ Saisons, back in Oxfordshire.

Lorenzo and Bárbara’s Sant Antoni fiesta was great fun. He lit the most enormous bonfire, and nearby we cooked delicious cuts of lamb and pork from his own farm over the burning embers of an improvised BBQ. We ate in their large garage/workshop/store, sitting on the ubiquitous (at Mallorcan fiestas, at least) white plastic chairs, either side of long trestle tables.

A few guests had brought along the traditional instrument that accompanies the singing of songs about Sant Antoni.  We could only listen – not understanding the Mallorcan words of the song – but were told that the songs were verde. This being the castellano word for ‘green’, I thought it was interesting that these songs should be about ecology – and a little strange that there was so much raucous laughter accompanying the verses.

Party-on and keep warm in January in Mallorca

Party-on and keep warm in January in Mallorca

It was only when a friend explained that verde is the equivalent of what we’d call ‘blue’ in English, that everything fell into place. More laughter followed, as we explained our misunderstanding.

The Deserted Dessert

After the singing, it was time for dessert. All the contributions had been placed on a large trestle table. Every one – except ours – was an ensaïmada, the coiled sweet yeasty pastry that’s emblematic of Mallorca. If there’s one thing we’ve learnt about many Mallorcans in our part of the island is that, when it comes to food, they favour the traditional and the familiar. So I wasn’t too surprised to see the ensaïmadas disappearing in front of us, like plants being devoured by a swarm of locusts – while my glistening golden tarte tatin sat untouched, shunned for its foreignness. “Never mind,” said The Boss, sensing my disappointment. “Plenty for us!” And just then, two of the German guests stepped forward and helped themselves to large slices.

Jan Edwards Copyright 2013

Into Each Life a Little Decadence Should Fall

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Filed under Food and drink, Utilities

The Boss and I have changed a lot since we moved to live in rural Mallorca. I hope for the better . . .

For a start, living in such beautiful surroundings has made us more environmentally aware. Some of this is due to the practicalities of our ‘off the grid’ life. For example, if we’re careless in our use of electricity, the chances are that our solar system will do the equivalent of screaming “Woah! I need a little generator support here!” And diesel, apart from being rather unfriendly in environmental terms, is also quite expensive.

So, we think carefully about usage, and would never dream of running the dishwasher, the washing machine and the iron all at the same time. And I try to do jobs that require a good slug of electricity on days when our 16 solar panels are basking in sunshine. If we’re lucky with the weather, we don’t have to rely on the generator to keep us in clean ironed clothes.

We’re similarly careful with water usage: we have to be, as it’s delivered by tanker to our cisterna, 12,000 litres at a time.

I must confess that I probably wasn’t so careful about these things when I lived in the UK, even though we had quarterly bills to pay for such services. The bathroom  tap would run while I was cleaning my teeth (now a ‘sin’ in our household), and lights would be on in unused rooms, just for decorative effect. Everything was ‘on tap’ and available – even if it meant bigger bills for less careful use.

A Zest for Cooking … and Gourmet Goodies 

Happily, my writing keeps me fairly busy, but I do like to find time to do things such as making  bread, biscuits, and preserves. In the early days of living here, I’d have been slightly overwhelmed by a generous gift of lemons – wondering how many G&Ts we’d have to drink to use them all up! Now, I head for the kitchen (where, it must be said, I am quite a messy but reasonably successful cook) and turn these gifts into preserves.

Friends who came for lunch last Thursday brought us a large basket of organic lemons and grapefruit; this summer, we’ll be spreading the resulting marmalade on our morning toast, thinking of our friends in their home in New York, and remembering a sunny January day when I spent most of one joyful morning shredding the peel from a small mountain of citrus fruit.

But within this changed girl remains a part-time hedonist: when the opportunity is there, I love dining out on fine food and wine, and I get little-girl-excited when I discover previously untried gourmet foods and ingredients.

So, when we opened a parcel yesterday – a generous gift from our lovely friends Duncan and Kristina in Oxford, who have visited us annually since we moved here, and probably love the finca as much as we do – we were thrilled to find some delicious Fortnum & Mason gourmet goodies within. And among the wrappings was a jar of F&M Majestic Marmalade. And, I kid you not, it’s flecked with gold leaf: it lives up to its name, looking like something a princess – or her servant – would spread on her morning toast (crusts removed, no doubt).

Our breakfast toast may be rustic in style – crusts intact, and with the bottom of the loaf slightly burnt, due to our thermostatically-challenged oven – but, when it comes to the marmalade that will be gracing it for the next week or so, all that glitters is definitely gold . . .

A decadent start to a day in the Mallorcan countryside

A decadent start to a day in the Mallorcan countryside

Jan Edwards Copyright 2013

Mallorca – the Global Village

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Filed under Food and drink

When we moved to rural Mallorca I had no idea that it would lead to us making new friends from around the world. We hoped to make new Mallorcan friends, because we’d deliberately chosen to move to somewhere populated mainly by local people, but we’ve been pleasantly surprised by the cosmopolitan nature of Mallorca – even in this rural area.

In our valley, we have neighbours – either resident or with holiday homes – from Mallorca, England, Switzerland, Sweden and Germany.

A Blast from the Past

Shortly before Christmas we had an unexpected visit from Ingo, an entertaining and erudite character from Hamburg, who’d owned a neighbouring holiday home with his wife Marion. They sold up here six years ago and bought a forest retreat in Germany, but he’d decided to make a short nostalgia trip to the island. We were thrilled that he’d remembered us after all this time; although we doubt that he fully remembers one hilarious evening we spent with him, eating bread and German sausage and enjoying a bottle or two of Mallorcan wine. We still chuckle about it . . .

A Swiss family bought his house and have become valued friends. They’re great fun and Peter is an excellent cook to boot. How could we not like people who arrived on our doorstep to introduce themselves, bearing gifts of Toblerone and Swiss Army Knives?

Friends from Afar

Today, we’ve had lunch here at the finca with newish friends who live and have a wine business in New York, but bought a rural finca as a  holiday home on Mallorca when they were living in Madrid. We met through a South African friend and former work colleague, who married a Texan, moved to the States, and worked in the wine industry. As I write, there’s a glass of Martué 2009 DO Pago Campo de la Guardia (Toledo) by my side – a bottle of which our New York friends brought with them to lunch. In the kitchen, there’s also an enormous pile of lemons and grapefruit, they brought us from their finca.

Mallorca may be a small Spanish island in the Mediterranean, but at times it feels like a global village, full of people with interesting stories to tell and hearts open to new friendships. It makes me think of that quote from the Irish poet W B Yeats: “There are no strangers here; only friends you haven’t yet met.”

Here’s to friends . . . of every nationality.  ¡Salud! (Slurps from glass).

Now where's that recipe for lemon curd . . .?

Now where’s that recipe for lemon curd?

Jan Edwards Copyright 2013

May Your New Year’s Eve Grapes Be Seedless

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Filed under Food and drink

A native Mallorcan grape variety, Callet is for wine - not for New Year's Eve. Buy small, sweet and seedless grapes for easier gulping!

A native Mallorcan grape variety, Callet is for wine – not for New Year’s Eve. Buy small, sweet and seedless grapes for easier gulping!

For our first New Year’s Eve after moving to rural Mallorca (2004) we decided to do something we hadn’t ever done in the UK: go to the capital to see in the New Year. We booked ourselves into a very reasonable small hotel in Palma (Hotel Cannes – alas, no longer open) and took the train into the city from Manacor.  The country folk were heading for A Big Night Out in the City!

Much to our surprise, the return journey was free of charge – although the ticket man on the train insisted on giving everyone a ‘free’ single journey ticket.  At the time, there were no automated barriers in either station, so this seemed slightly quirky; we wondered how much it had cost to have these special tickets printed . . .

Whining About Dining

We planned to eat out and then go to Plaza Cort, in the centre of Palma, where there’s a real party atmosphere on New Year’s Eve – with live music, plenty of revelry, and these days the presence of the Balearics’ TV station IB3. To our surprise, we found that most restaurants in Palma were closed, and after trudging the streets – stomachs rumbling – we finally found an Italian restaurant with one free table, which we commandeered without even looking at the menu. We were desperate – having been on the verge of gobbling down the 24 grapes we’d brought with us for the Spanish tradition of downing one grape each time the clock chimes at midnight.

The food wasn’t memorable, but we went on to have a great night in Plaza Cort, dancing to a lively band. It was 2.40am when we finally returned to our hotel to catch some sleep before our return train journey home.

Showtime! 

The journey was a long one: the train was packed (with free travel, no surprise), and stopped at every station and, unusually, there was music playing throughout the carriages. After a late night and a few glasses of cava, the driver’s selection (we imagined this was his privilege for working on New Year’s Day) of rousing show tunes made sure that we didn’t fall asleep during the journey. We couldn’t complain though: our journey again cost us nothing and we had another ‘free’ ticket to show for it.

When in Rome . . . 

The next year we decided to check out the celebrations closer to home, among the locals.  At 11pm we went into Manacor with the aim of having a drink in one of the numerous bars, before assembling at the church with the throngs of locals. It would have been a great plan if all the bars hadn’t been closed. We thought of past New Year’s Eve celebrations in the UK – all somewhat livelier than anything we’d seen – or have seen since – in Mallorca.

As we wandered around the deserted town centre, clutching our bags of grapes, we remembered friends telling us that New Year’s Eve is usually a family celebration for Mallorcans, taking place over a special meal at home (hence, many restaurants are closed for the night).  Finally, at 11.45pm the bar next to the church opened its doors: we bought ourselves a drink and watched as, slowly, groups of people began to assemble outside the church, where a band had set up their instruments on a wooden stage and was in the process of tuning up.

Our grapes at the ready, we joined the crowd outside and duly welcomed in the New Year. After the church bells had rung and we’d gobbled down our grapes, the band struck up and we joined in the dancing. But by 12.20am most people had wandered off home, leaving a not very large group of young hardcore partygoers still throwing shapes to the music. We ambled off to our car, making our first New Year’s Resolution: Do something different for the next New Year’s Eve!

Of course, this time of year is not all about partying. It’s a time to share with loved ones, to reflect on the year behind you, and make plans for the one ahead. However you spend your New Year’s Eve, enjoy it, and may 2013 be a Happy, Healthy and Prosperous New Year for you and, if you’re a blogger, a successful one.

Molts d’anys – as they say in these parts.

Jan Edwards 2012

Merry Christmas From Rural Mallorca

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Filed under Food and drink, Utilities

IMG_2430[1]Christmas is always a time for reflection and we’ve been reflecting on our first festive season here at our finca in rural Mallorca. Things have changed a lot since that first Christmas, in 2004.

Then, we’d only had our solar powered electricity system for a couple of weeks, which mean that  the kitchen we’d had installed was finally fit for purpose, and we were looking forward to an enjoyable Christmas dinner – our first in our Mallorcan home. Our last, in England, had been the saddest one of my life, and I was determined to make this one special.

Talking Turkey

We’d ordered our turkey from one of the butcher’s stalls in Manacor market, and been served by a man who’d found our request for a whole turkey surprising. He told us that Mallorcans don’t generally roast a whole bird, and prefer to buy poultry jointed. We agreed the weight of the – whole – bird we wanted, and a collection date, thanked him, and turned to leave.  Our man on the meat counter had one final question for us, delivered in deadpan fashion and in Spanish: “Do you want it dead or alive?”

We had to laugh, because we’d recently heard a story of some expats who’d won a turkey in a raffle and, when it was delivered to their home, it was still very much alive!

Talk Talk

Christmas Day duly arrived and the centrepiece of our traditional British festive feast was prepared and put into the oven to cook. While this was happening, we’d be contacting loved ones back in England to wish them a Happy Christmas. The only problem was that we didn’t have a telephone in the house (not, however, for the want of trying), so we had to use a mobile phone. And to compound the difficulty, there was only one place where we could get a mobile signal, and that meant standing on a wall.

We took it in turns to perch aloft, using the phone, while the other provided a useful leaning post in case of any wall-top wobbles. It being our first Christmas away from our families and friends, The Boss and I each spoke for quite some time, and it was probably an hour later when we finally went indoors to check on the turkey.

Fill ‘er Up

No delicious aromas greeted us from the kitchen: the oven had gone out and, judging by the cold  door, it had probably done so shortly after we went outside to make our phone calls. The butano gas bottle was empty. So Christmas dinner that year was rather late – but we had a good laugh about it.

And every Christmas morning since then, we’ve made sure that we’ve changed the oven’s gas bottle for a full one – just in case.

Merry Christmas!

Jan Edwards Copyright 2012

Five Go With Us Into the Winter – Part 3: the Logburner

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Filed under Countryside, Food and drink

Not such a blast from the past - our old almond-shell-burning stove

Not such a blast from the past – our old almond-shell-burning stove

When we moved into our finca in Mallorca there was a traditional metal open fireplace in the sitting room. We’d been looking forward to cosy winters in front of a log fire, roasting chestnuts, as we enjoyed a glass or two of one of the delicious Son Sureda Ric (www.sonsuredaric.com) wines, produced in our region of Mallorca.

We had a small supply of logs delivered and lit our first fire with great excitement, but it wasn’t long before we had to open all the doors and windows because of the smoke billowing around the room. Somewhat counterproductive when you’re lighting a fire to keep warm!

The Boss soon got to grips with the fireplace, but meeting its demand for logs became difficult. Because it was an open fire – and our home is exposed to the north winds that often whip up the valley – the wood burned very quickly and little heat seemed to come into the room.

Norwegian Good

So we invested in a Norwegian Jotul woodburner, which has filled our winters with warmth and pleasure – and is one of the best things about winter in Mallorca. It’s very economical with logs and, even better, will burn slowly 24/7 if we want it to. Not only does it give us heat, I often cook jacket potatoes inside it, and make soup that sits in a large pan on top of the stove, slowly cooking through the morning so that it’s ready for lunch. Oh, and it makes a useful plate-warmer too!

One of the things left behind in our finca by the previous owners was a Hergóm stove. It no longer worked, having at some stage had its stovepipe removed, but at one time it would have been used to burn almond shells – a handy fuel on an island with so many almond trees. I’ve tried to persuade The Boss that we should recommission it and install it in the bathroom, but to no avail.

However, I gave the old stove a bit of a spruce-up and it’s become a purely decorative feature in our home – a rustic reminder of how homes like this would once have been heated. Except that on one of our visits to Leroy Merlin – a DIY store on the outskirts of Palma – we saw one of these stoves for sale. It looked exactly the same as ours at home, and had a price tag of 300 euros. So much for nostalgia.

Jan Edwards Copyright 2012 

Cooking Up the Christmas Spirit in Mallorca

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Filed under Food and drink

We think that we’ve embraced the Mallorcan way of life rather well, but some things from home cannot be forgotten at Christmas. So, in the past few days, I’ve baked the traditional Christmas cake. After it’s been iced, nobody will notice that it’s rather darker than it should be.  For yet another year, the combined efforts of Delia Smith (the recipe) and myself (the hard graft) have been thwarted by our rather useless Italian oven.  With its smart brass fittings and matte finish, it really looks the business – but then so do many Italian things. The problem is that the thermostat has never worked properly, (the grill packed up ages ago), and the temperature goes up and down (but mainly up) like a bride’s nightie. It’s been suggested that it’s because the oven is powered by butano gas . . . ?

Spice Girl

At least my homemade mincemeat looks and tastes rather fabulous (and I’ve had to taste it a few times to make sure). And so it should, with that much brandy and spiced rum in it. I even bought a small piece of festive fabric from a haberdashery shop in Manacor so that I could make kitsch little covers for the jar lids.  Sorry . . .  were you just dazzled by the sun reflecting off my halo?

Here I must confess that the oven gets the better of me when it comes to making pastry. Thankfully, I’ve found a local shop that sells a natty little line in ready-made pastry cases: I fill them with my home-made mincemeat, top them with my special crumble mix, and – venga – delicious mince pies. The Boss is ever-so-slightly addicted to these little packages of Christmas spicy loveliness, so I’ll be on production line duty for the next few weeks.

Service With a Smile

One thing we do miss is the Ecumenical Christmas service which used to be held in Palma’s magnificent cathedral in early December. It was the perfect warm-up for the festive season: singing a few carols, listening to the cathedral choir, Els Vermells de la Seu, and the wide-eyed children of the Centre Stage Junior Chorus. Some of the verses of traditional carols were translated into castellano or mallorquín and, in some cases, it seemed that there were more words than available tune!

The service also included the 10th century chant known as the Sibil-la, traditionally sung before or during Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve – and Mallorca is now the only place where it’s performed. The story of Judgement Day, it’s sung unaccompanied by a lone chorister clad in oriental robes and holding aloft a rather heavy-looking sword.  Between each verse there’s a heart-stopping burst of music from the cathedral’s booming organ. I’d sum it all up as hauntingly beautiful . . .  and a bit long (plenty of time to reflect on one’s own misdemeanours, I suppose).

One year we were there, the length of the service proved to be too much for one little person, sitting close by. Just as the opening bars of “A Holly Jolly Christmas” were being played, an indignant voice (aged around three) piped up loudly from a nearby pew: “Not another one!” The little boy’s parents’ faces were as red as the Centre Stage Juniors’ sweaters, but the rest of us who heard it enjoyed a muffled giggle behind our order of service sheets.

Ah, fond memories. But I must go, Delia’s calling – Spiced Apricot and Orange Chutney, I think …

Jan Edwards Copyright 2012

Another Tap Bites the Dust . . .

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Filed under Food and drink, Maintenance

In all the recent excitement of having our rural finca in Mallorca re-roofed, we were tolerating – rather than tackling – a small domestic irritation. And, like many problems we’ve had since moving to the Mallorcan countryside, it was water-related.

Here Be a Dragon

When we first moved here, the kitchen was little more than a room containing an old stainless steel sink, a gas-powered fridge/freezer (don’t ever go there), some pine shelves and a small pine cupboard topped with a slab of marble. Oh, and of course there was the gas cooker, which – for reasons you can probably imagine – I christened ‘the dragon’. Who needs eyebrows anyway?

Within a few months we’d sourced ourselves a fitted kitchen, which transformed what would have been Delia Smith’s worst nightmare into something any of Mallorca’s five* Michelin-starred cuisine-producing chefs would be happy to do a turn in. (Oh, I wish!).

We chose a very stylish kitchen sink, with the appearance of stone, and a smart matching tap. Rather expensive but, we thought, you don’t replace such things every five minutes. However, the water in Mallorca is very hard and contains a lot of cal – or lime – and it’s a pesky nuisance when it comes to clogging up water-using appliances, including taps.

Cal Claims Another Victim

In February 2011, the kitchen tap started spewing water everywhere like a fountain in a force 10 gale. We called Cito, owner of the local plumbing firm we’ve used since we bought the finca. We’re such regular customers that Cito treats us like best friends; if he sees us in town, there’s always a frenzy of kissing and hugging. So when Cito declared that our tap was beyond repair, we knew it wasn’t just a ruse to sell us a new one, rather than repair the existing one.

Plumber Miquel Angel knows our kitchen very well indeed

We took his recommendation and bought one that cost more than we really wanted to pay, but were assured that the manufacturer was a good one. The shiny chrome version (alas, the one that had matched the sink was no longer being manufactured) was duly installed.

Water, Water, Everywhere …

Some six or seven weeks ago, we returned home to find a large pool of water on the kitchen floor. We couldn’t blame Minstral, our Birman cat; he’s never yet been caught short on the way to his litter tray. It didn’t take long to realise that the water was leaking from a joint on the tap, running along the back of the worktop, under the dishwasher and then cascading onto the floor. Our very own indoor waterfall . . .

Not wanting any further disruption from workmen, we lived with this situation throughout the roofing job by wrapping a sponge around the base of the tap to soak up the leaking water. Not ideal. On Monday this week we finally called in Cito and, on Tuesday morning, Miquel Angel – one of his employees – came to sort out the problem. Once again, it seemed that the tap was unrepairable and a new one was fitted. The good news is that Cito believes the leaky tap probably had a manufacturing fault, so he’s returning it to the company for repair or replacement. Meanwhile, he’s only charging us for the labour. Now that’s what I call service . . .

FOOTNOTE

Michelin-starred cuisine at Es Fum restaurant in Costa d’en Blanes, Mallorca

 

Yes, you did read correctly: Mallorca has five restaurants with Michelin-starred cuisine. The latest awards were made in the Michelin Guide Spain & Portugal 2013 last evening in Madrid.  And there are also three restaurants with the Bib Gourmand, offering “high quality, affordable cuisine.” The island also has around 60 wineries – a number of which produce stonking prize-winning wines – and a host of products loved by gourmets way beyond our shores. Mallorca is often negatively portrayed in the British tabloid press, but please believe that there’s more to this Spanish island than the resort of Magaluf and its well-publicised problems. The great gastronomy is just one of the many reasons to visit Mallorca.

Pass the ladder, it’s time to get off my high horse . . .

Jan Edwards Copyright 2012